We're Good When We're Bad Together
by atlaswhite
Summary: Spirou et Fantasio. Seccotine snags an opportunity for a big interview with the former General Zantas, and finds herself gaining much more than either of them bargained for. Zantafio/Seccotine
1. 4 Times Seccotine Woke in Zantafio's Bed

_Zantafio & Seccotine - We're Good When We're Bad Together_

_-Part 1: Four times Seccotine woke up in Zantafio's bed-_

The first time it had happened, Seccotine thought it was just a one-time thing. The whole affair had happened very quickly, as she was looking for a hot interview when she approached him and then... wound up having a hot night instead. Wined and dined and brought back to his apartment, to make a long story short.

He was handsome, well-mannered, and charming- a little _too_ charming, in fact- and they'd hit it off right away. He really was the tall, dark, and handsome type, with that edge of danger that Seccotine had always had an unfortunate weakness for. Really, he was the whole package.

There was just one problem. He was none other than Zantafio, internationally wanted crook.

She had known that, of course, yet here she was, in his bed, contemplating his sleeping face, deceptively peaceful, and wondering how she had managed to get herself into this. Well, actually that much she knew. He was charming, she was interested. Simple.

But why him? He was a criminal- not just that, but an ex-dictator for crying out loud! She had personally helped to overthrow him, as a matter of fact- but perhaps he hadn't recognized her. They had only gotten a fleeting glimpse of each other back then, in Palombia, where it all began. And, she thought with a touch of inward embarrassment, although it was of course hard to be attracted to a man pointing a machine gun at you, it seemed that without the gun...

Zantafio stirred, the intense, dark brown eyes slowly opening before he smiled sleepily at her. He shifted closer, lifted a hand to run roughened knuckles so lightly along her smooth, freckled cheek.

"Good morning," Zantafio said. "I trust you slept well?"

"Just fine," Seccotine replied, and she knew she didn't sound quite as sure of herself as she'd like to be. As she had been last night, she chided herself. "And yourself?"

Zantafio chuckled, the way one does when he has just the perfect answer. "Ah, but of course. In your company, how could I not?" No wonder he could move men and countries to follow him. He spoke with such ease, his words as smooth as silk, though his voice had a kind of roughness to it. He had almost lost his Bruxellois accent, but Seccotine could still detect the notes of it somewhere in that voice, and it reminded her of home despite herself, despite its owner.

"Smooth, aren't you?" Seccotine laughed softly, trying to put up a barrier against his seductive charm. She took on a testing tone. "Do you think that's what I want to hear?"

Zantafio paused, but his expression didn't change. "No, I guess it isn't." He said after a moment. "You're not the type for flowers and sweet-talk. What you want is... _action_, am I right?" As he said this, his hand slid up her bare arm, caressing, but afterward he took on a strange, focused look and added, "I seem to recall that was the way it was the last time we met... in _Palombia?_ That was you then, wasn't it, my dear?"

Seccotine froze. Oh, so he _did_ know who she was. "Erm, you mean you recognized me, then?"

Zantafio gave a low laugh. "Of course, you don't take me for a fool, do you? You were hanging around with those damned _pests_ Spirou and Fantasio then." He spat their names, as if they left a foul taste in his mouth. "And you knew me, too, of course- that's why you wanted to interview me yesterday, isn't it?" Here he grinned proudly. "But it seems I've changed your mind about me, _hmm?_"

And Seccotine couldn't help but show a coy smile at that arrogance, that sheer confidence. "Maybe. Well, I admit I never would have imagined so enjoying your company, and... I certainly never guessed I'd end up _here_."

"I should think you didn't," Zantafio replied, sounding almost amused, "but here we are all the same, you and I." He paused for a moment, thinking it over. Clearly he didn't care to go deeper into the topic, now that he'd shown her that he knew. But it seemed to have struck him that he too had had his mind changed. He had charmed her, but he too had been charmed, to wind up here with her. So, his eyes were searching as at last he asked, "So then, what do you want from me now?"

Seccotine leaned closer to that handsome criminal, looking into those dark eyes. She found she couldn't be quite as confident as she wanted; she no longer wanted an interview, and it was hard to say what she now felt she wanted, _needed_ from Zantafio, having been so charmed and having charmed him in return. So in the end, all she could say was, "I'm not sure yet."

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out." He chuckled, and drew her into a kiss.

At first she had thought it was, without a doubt, something that would only happen once. But something about the way he kissed her made her feel a lot less sure. And the way that his strong arms pulled her naked body against his own for the second time made her forget the question entirely.

The second time it happened, Seccotine found she wasn't surprised like she might have been before. They met again on a cruise ship, all just a coincidence; he hadn't even had anything to do with the story she'd been working on at the time, and she'd found without a doubt that that irrestistible spark was still there. When she saw him, she felt that particular tug that she'd never felt toward anyone else. She'd had to go and talk to him.

She'd been wearing a tasteful white dress with black cuffs. He'd told her it reminded him of a dove, and she'd laughed. Nothing could be further from the truth. Zantafio was apparently a fan of irony, though, because he'd turned it into a nickname.

He'd even called her that when she woke up the next morning- in his cabin. With that "dove-like" dress of hers on the floor.

"Something wrong, Seccotine?" Zantafio asked, and Seccotine smiled at him, a knowing sort of smile shown across the deck of a cruise ship at an ex-dictator whom she had twice woken up next to, and who came bearing champagne; one delicate glass in each hand.

"Not at all," she answered.

Zantafio stepped up next to her, handed her one of the glasses. "I propose a toast."

"To what?" Seccotine asked, glancing between him and the glass. In the moment, she felt like a movie star.

"To us." Zantafio said, and raised his glass to her. "To you, _my dove_."

Honestly, this little joke of his was already getting old. A dove was a symbol of peace and purity, and there was really nothing peaceful _or_ pure about her. In truth, she was always on the move, and almost as sneaky as he was.

But, instead of pointing this out again, she just laughed, freely, and agreed, "To us. To you- I think you're becoming a bad habit, _monsieur_ Zantafio."

Zantafio grinned. "I hope so," he said, and sipped deeply from his champagne.

The third time it happened, it was because Seccotine had chosen to leave with Zantafio after the cruise was over. She'd gotten her big story, and he'd stolen some very valuable jewels from one of the other passengers- she pretended not to notice.

She was thinking at the time that it was probably a bad idea, going with him, but she did it anyway. What did she have to lose? She was having fun, and she found she really did enjoy being with him. He had his... _misgivings_, but he was good to her, and when she woke up beside him for the third time in her life, she found it felt pretty good.

So she went with him to his hotel, and stayed there until they moved on, together, both of them in pursuit of grand stories and fortune, though in two very different ways. It was all so _exciting_. She'd never known there could be a man compatible with her life style, but here he was, the scoundrel. The whole package. She loved it.

It happened steadily after that. When it all started Seccotine had not thought it would last, but Zantafio was still there, waking her up every morning with strong coffee and still calling her his dove. So it was this morning.

It wasn't a perfect relationship, but then, was any? He was no more used to caring about another person than she was- even less so, in fact. He was moody, selfish, and tended to dwell on things. She was emotional, and had a real tendency not to know just when to quit- a trait that often grated on Zantafio's nerves.

But they understood each other, and they were a good match. Zantafio may be moody and selfish, but he tried hard to consider her feelings, and Seccotine may be emotional and stubborn, but she recognized his need for space. There was something between them that was real, something that neither of them was ready yet to give a name to.

When the day ended, they said goodnight and they kissed, but they didn't say that great big word yet, the name they weren't quite willing to give what it was between them, but they both had an understanding of it, and that was what worked in their peculiar but blossoming relationship. Sometimes the things that weren't said meant as much as the things that were.


	2. Their Meaning for the Great Big Word

_Zantafio & Seccotine - We're Good When We're Bad Together_

_-Part 2: Their definition for the great big word-_

Time went on, and Zantafio and Seccotine stayed together. They had a good relationship, healthy if peculiar, both of them happy with what they had.

Zantafio did not change his ways, but for all his eccentricities and all his criminal activities, he always tried to put his Seccotine first. He took her to such lovely places, though it did seem they had to move from one country to another fairly often. Irritated, she warned him to be more subtle with his plots, at the very least, and he agreed that was best, promising to be more careful the next time. They moved to Portugal after that, and then spent some time in French Polynesia, before heading back home to Belgium for a spell, the one place no one would ever expect Zantafio to show his face. They were never bored.

Not too long after that last move, she spotted _them_. It was a strange feeling for Seccotine, seeing Spirou and Fantasio again for the first time since she'd gotten together with Zantafio. They knew that he was here, they were looking for him. They wanted to stop him from doing whatever it was he was doing. They asked her what she was doing in their usual ways- Spirou perfectly polite and Fantasio rather a bit begrudging.

Of course, she took Zantafio's side. "I'm out here for a story of my own," she told them. "I'm afraid I haven't seen Zantafio anywhere. Why, what's he done this time?"

"We're afraid he's after the museum's new exhibit," Spirou answered, telling too much just like always. "They've got a bunch of new artifacts from Peru, and we _know_ that Zantafio's been scouting it out."

"That sounds just like the scoundrel," Seccotine said. She meant it, and she knew Spirou was right about the brunet scouting it out. So much for being careful. "Well, I'll do whatever I can to help, just let me know, okay?" She smiled as sweetly as she could, and next to Spirou, Fantasio frowned. Did he suspect something, or did he just dislike her tone?

That was the end of their conversation. The young men both thanked her politely and she bid them farewell and went off on her way. Back to Zantafio. And she really didn't feel badly about that. Still, as something of a quiet gesture, she decided to see if she could get him to call it off, ignore the exhibit. It would be best for everyone, since it would keep Spirou and Fantasio from getting hurt, and Zantafio from getting hurt worse, and probably arrested.

The thoughts followed her through the afternoon, and so, that evening, she approached him about it.

"Call it off? Just because of _those two?_" Zantafio asked incredulously.

"Yes!" Seccotine said firmly. "They know you're coming; all you'll end up doing is getting yourself arrested."

Zantafio huffed. "After all the work I've put into this heist..." He grumbled, and turned to face her, look her in the eyes. He stood silently for a moment, looking deep into her blue eyes, seeing the earnesty in them, and then finally sighed roughly. "You're right, damn it, I know you are!" He turned and threw his arms up into the air. "What am I supposed to do with those two idiots sniffing around?" Suddenly he wheeled around again. "I've got it! Yes! I'll have my men lie in wait for them, and when they come, I'll take them both out in one fell swoop!" He brought his fist down onto his flat palm for emphasis.

Seccotine frowned. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that." She said uneasily. Really, they had their differences, but that didn't mean she wanted Spirou and Fantasio _dead_. No matter how strongly she felt about Zantafio, she wasn't sure she could look him in the eye if he'd killed the both of them, especially seeing as Fantasio was his own cousin, flesh and blood.

Zantafio tipped his head to one side. "What do you mean?" He asked. Did he really not get it?

"I just... I don't want all of this getting out of hand. I don't want them dead, I don't want you getting killed yourself, or hurt, or sent up for murder or some _combination_ of those things..." Seccotine rubbed her arm uneasily as she spoke. "Why don't you just let this one go and we'll find you some other big shiny treasure to steal? Something even better? Something that Spirou and Fantasio aren't already _protecting?_ Come on, you've got to know that isn't worth it, there's no way this is going to work out!"

Zantafio rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Seccotine was the only one who could make him reconsider something like this, when he had his black heart all good and set on it. She hoped that he would agree with her. They both knew she was absolutely right about this, and one exhibit was not worth the damage they would certainly suffer.

Finally, thankfully, he conceded. "_Bah_, you're probably right. There are just- too many ways for this to get messy." He said, tossing his hand out dramatically. "Perhaps we should try a different approach, or... perhaps even just look elsewhere."

Deep down- and Seccotine had a feeling this was the case- Zantafio still wanted to go ahead and try it anyway, as foolish as it was. He was not the most sensible man, no matter how clever he truly was.

But she had implored him not to, and even though he knew that was partly for the sake of his enemies, and not just for himself, he agreed. There were many complicated lines of thought in that head of his, and many reasons for him to agree with her, but in the end it was the fact that he did that mattered.

Satisfied and relieved, Seccotine kissed him, and pulled his jacket down his arms, initiating something much more. A distraction and reward both.

That event pushed their relationship further and deeper. Zantafio had proven how he felt, how satisfying her and keeping himself out of a potentially deadly situation was more important than a chance at revenge against his two least favorite individuals.

And it kept on building that way, give and take. They were both such flawed creatures, who would take them but one another? And finally Seccotine was ready to put a name on it, to say that great big word that for so long, neither of them had been willing to utter.

It was night, the stars were out, and they were together on the well-lit walkway outside their current hotel. It was a beautiful night, a moving night, and the word had been on the tip of her tongue all until this moment, getting bigger and bigger until she had no choice but to stop him and tell him, to say it out loud.

"Zantafio, listen," she started, uneasily. She never thought she should want to say this to anyone. But here she was. And so was he, the scoundrel; that dreadful, selfish, vain, wonderful, charming and fiercely loyal man... She would say it to him. She would give him herself.

"Yes, _my dove?_" Zantafio stopped, looked at her, still smiling. But that smile faded quickly as he saw how serious she looked, she way her face and stance were now. He wasn't sure he liked that look- after all, what did it mean? "Seccotine, what's wrong?"

"I just- there's something you need you to know. Look, Zantafio..." Seccotine paused, took a deep breath. "I love you." Her eyes were deadly serious, and her lower lip trembled just slightly, as if to underscore the words.

Zantafio froze. His expression just then was hard to read, he looked at her as if she'd said something utterly foreign to him, something he almost understood, but not quite. For the first time in his life, he was speechless, trying to find words that slipped easily away from him.

His thoughts came quickly, fluid but hazy. What was this? Was he paralyzed by the words? Was this a spell that Seccotine had cast over Zantafio to enslave him?

Well, if it _was_ a spell... he was certain it had worked.

He opened his mouth, but still found it impossible to speak. Finally, he turned away from her, but he could feel his heart pounding, and it made him feel afraid in a way that nothing else could, not enemy guns or Spirou's fists or the threat of defeat. But he would not leave.

"I don't know what to say," he said, and he hated how the words sounded because he _always_ knew what to say. This was just so unexpected, so suddenly _real._ It wasn't as though he hadn't known what he felt for Seccotine, but the words were foreign to him, like a sorceress's runes. What did they mean to him? How was he supposed to react?

"Don't say anything if you can't." Seccotine replied, taking a step toward him. With her long, slender fingers, she touched his jaw, turned his head so that he had no choice but to face her, look into those deep blue eyes and see, understand how much she had meant what she said.

Zantafio thought this over, and finally said, "I want you to stay with me."

Seccotine smiled understandingly. Even though she had bared her heart to him, he wasn't trying to push her away, or deflect her feelings. He just wasn't ready yet to say out loud that he felt the same way, and the difference was vast and important. She knew this. She accepted it.

Her fingers slid up to cradle Zantafio's cheek, and she leaned up to kiss him. His arms slid around her, holding her against himself. After a moment, he deepened the kiss, and squeezed her like he might never let go. There were so many feelings in that scoundrel that he had never explored, but that was something he could do with Seccotine without ever having to worry about being expected to change who he was in order to indulge them.

In truth, there truly _was_ no changing Zantafio, no taming him or redeeming him from his selfish and criminal ways. Seccotine understood that. What he had may be a false dove, but what she had was a true _leopard_, wild and free- and a leopard can never change his spots. And she would have him no other way.


End file.
